


To Whom Am I Speaking?

by BorrowedSilence



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Jim pretending to be people he's not, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 13:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16368548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BorrowedSilence/pseuds/BorrowedSilence
Summary: @marcceh said "Instead of Jim pretending to be “”“nice”“” so he can seduce Mycroft for the purpose of breaking his heart when he finds out he’s Moriarty can i please have Jim pretending to be someone specific cuz he thinks it’s only way he has a chance with Mycroft Holmes." Not quite what was asked for but nevertheless...





	To Whom Am I Speaking?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marchh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchh/gifts).



It was a bright and beautiful summer day; birds were chirping, traffic was flowing, and there had been no threats to the general world order.

Mycroft takes a second to close his eyes and take a deep breath.

“What have you done with the Prime Minister,” he says at last.

“Mister Holmes,” the intruder says, running a hand through inky black hair, “I’m your new Prime Minister.”

He can almost see the migraine coming.

“Anthea?” he sighs, not even bothering to glance at the camera in the corner of the room, “please have Mr. Moriarty removed from the premises, in one piece preferably.” He watches as the man’s eyes widen almost comically as he continues to twirl around in the PM’s chair as if it’s a spinning teacup attraction for toddlers until eventually the forces of nature bring him to a slow stop facing Mycroft.

“Uhm.” He says eloquently, as agents enter the office and begin to drag the man away, “I have no idea who this James Moriarty is?”

His act is entirely unconvincing. Although Mycroft privately admits to himself that it would be more convincing had he not been holding the man’s file and grainy CCTV photo.

-

It’s not often he gets called to attend social events, even rarer that he bothers to show his face, but the Queen had insisted that he partake in at least a small portion of the evening’s activities and who was he to refuse her?

He was regretting his decision already.

“So, do you have any other plans for tonight?” The man is practically clinging to his arm like one of those rich socialites in less than enjoyable films, even if he doesn’t look the part in his crisp Westwood suit. “Because I would certainly like to get to know you better Iceman.” Moriarty gives him a suggestive little eyebrow waggle and a smirk.

“And who are you tonight Mr. Moriarty?”

“Oh just a minor government employee in the transportation department,” he replies, holding his free hand in front of his face as if to examine his nails, “although I wouldn’t be adverse to… moving into your division if you get my lingo.”

Mycroft promptly detaches himself and leaves without saying a word.

-

In Mycroft’s haste to get to his office he knocks into the familiar figure standing at the door to his flat, belstaff coat fluttering in the wind and poised as if to make a dramatic entrance.

“Sherlock, whatever it is I do not have time,“ he turns to look at his brother—

James Moriarty is doing an outstanding impression of a deer caught in headlights.

The secret British government just groans. “Surely this is ridiculous even for your standards?”

The consulting whatever-that-makes-him-now makes his hasty retreat.

-

Puppy eyes do not work on Mycroft Holmes.

_That’s what you want to believe._ His brain thinks traitorously, at the sight of the raven-haired man standing in front of him.

Apparently this time he’s an actor for children’s .

“Look Iceman. Holmes. Mycroft. Mycie, whatever you want,” oh for the love of… was he actually tearing up? “Who or what is it you want me to be to get you to like me, and willyougooutonadatewithme?”

And Mycroft isn’t sure what to do.

_Kiss him!_  Whispers his heart.

His brain has long since stopped functioning in a proper manner around James.

So he settles for an awkward pat on the top of the shorter man’s head, “perhaps James, I like you best for who you are.”

_Wow_ , his brain says, _you sound like the lamest teen romance fic ever—_

But Jim, it’s definitely Jim this time, pulls him down for a kiss anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> It's short but I forgot to post this from Tumblr and the Jimcroft tag needs more friends.


End file.
